


Family Traditions

by ssa_archivist



Series: Movement [2]
Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-01-15
Updated: 2002-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-01 05:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/352372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every family has its traditions.  Clark and Lex discover some of each other's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Traditions

## Family Traditions

by Jade

[]()

* * *

Disclaimer: They're not mine. 

Series: This is a sequel to Movement. You should read it first. It can be found here: <http://smallville.slashdom.com/archive/2/movement.html>

Note: Yes, this was my Christmas story but it got delayed by me actually leaving town for Christmas. I hope you still enjoy it. 

Acknowledgement: A huge thank you to Cristina who betaed this for me. As always, you're great. 

* * *

I look down at the white envelope in my hand. The paper is thick and heavy and embossed with elegant gold script. It's my name in the front. Mr. Alexander J. Luthor. I snort. No one calls me that unless they want something. I think it's probably an invitation to my father's Christmas party in Metropolis. I hate them with a passion that borders on irrational. Everyone's so fake and insincere and I'm expected to take it and play nice. Because I'm my father's heir. Because one day I will be Luthor Corp. Not that I've ever wanted that, but it's what's always been my future, my destiny. 

I spent the first eighteen years of my life both literally and figuratively hiding in my father's coatroom during the festivities. No one looks for you in a coatroom, especially not after you turn twelve. They think you must be off somewhere getting drunk or high or fucked or possibly all of them at the same time and so they pretty much leave you alone, which is exactly what I wanted. By the time I turned nineteen, I had decided that I wasn't going to play that particular game any longer. My father had known for sometime that I was fooling around with other men, but he'd never seemed to care. He thought he could wait me out. After all, he reasoned, there was no way I could actually enjoy what I was doing, it was just all an act to make him angry and so he was refusing to give in. I decided it was time for me to up the ante and make it all a little more public. That was when my father's parties starting getting a lot more interesting. 

I was in full rebellion mode that year. Over the course of the first four months of the school year, I had wrecked two different cars in reckless accidents, continued my trips to Club Zero against the wishes of both my lawyers and my father, and moved in with my boyfriend at the time, David Miller. My father was doing his best to ignore my activities. But ignoring me wasn't going to work and I was going to make sure of that. 

So, I decided to bring David with me to the party. David wasn't from a well-to-do family, he was smart and studying at Princeton on a scholarship, and so he really had no idea how wealthy families operated. He had thought that me taking him was a little strange, but I had assured him it was okay. Of course he believed me. Why wouldn't he? 

I had timed our arrival carefully. I wanted to arrive with David at a time when my father would be distracted. That way I would be able to make the largest impact possible before Father could do anything to stop it. Every year, my father got the senior executives together in the boardroom for a private celebration at nine. They drank, shared cigars and then Father would hand out the bonus checks. I was never sure why he always did this at the same time but he did and that made it an opportunity to be exploited. Father is usually so careful about being unpredictable so he can minimize his vulnerabilities. 

I arrived with David exactly at nine. We were both well dressed and no one thought anything of me arriving with a male friend instead of a date. How little these people understood about who I really am. I had mingled just long enough so that people would know I was present and then had made my move. I took David out onto the dance floor and danced with him. A simple thing really and it may not have generated more than a whisper and nod from most of the people gathered there except for the way that I did it. I was all over David, pressed up close to him, touching him in places that just weren't suitable for a public gathering. It was suggestive and left little doubt as to what we were to each other. Just to make sure I made the largest possible impact, I had leaned in and kissed David passionately when the song ended. 

It had taken all of two minutes for word to pass to my father. All of the sudden he was standing next to me, seething. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me roughly from David's embrace. My arm jerked around strangely and a searing pain ran up it. I'd never seen my father quite as angry as he was in that moment. His eyes flashed hard, soulless anger. His long, bony fingers dug deeply into my arm and I knew I would have bruises in the morning. I cried out in pain but my father just continued to drag me across the floor. 

"Shut up," he hissed in my ear. I'd had no idea my father was so strong. 

"Lex?" David asked as he trailed behind us. We both ignored him. We both knew that he wasn't really important to this situation, just a convenient body that fit into my plan. 

Father dragged me all the way to the front door. He nodded sharply at the doorman, who opened the door hastily, and then pushed me through the entranceway roughly. "Get out," he spat and glared at me. Father watched David intently as he came out of the house to stand next to me on the step. Father had taken one last long look at us before sneering in disgust and then turning to go back inside. He slammed the door heavily behind himself. 

I stared at the door for a moment, shocked that my plan had worked so well, and then broke out in a wide grin. Even the burning pain in my arm couldn't eclipse the pleasure I felt at the knowledge that I had finally gotten to my father. David had been furious. He accused me of using him to get to my father. I had laughed in his face. Why else would I have been with him in the first place? I knew David's friends had warned him about me, so he should have known what a bastard I could be. But David was one of the ones who fell in love with my image and thought they could control me, change me into the person they wanted me to be. There have been a number of those people throughout my life. I learned how to recognize them and eventually how to use their attachment to me for my own advantage. 

David had stormed off and told me not to come back to our hotel room that night. That had been fine with me. I'd wanted to see the doctor and make sure my arm wasn't permanently damaged. I'd gone to see our private family physician, who told me that my shoulder was just sprained and I needed to rest it. I spent the night at another hotel. I flew back to school the next day. I had my stuff moved out before David even returned from Metropolis. That had been the end of our relationship, which was too bad because David had been great in bed and I had really enjoyed him, but it was worth it to see the look on my father's face that night. 

Last year my father had thought himself safe. I had been seeing a young woman named Lindsey. She was the daughter of one of Father's business associates. Lindsey was a nice, acceptable woman whom Father approved of. When we had arrived at the party together, my father had looked relieved that he wouldn't need to deal with my antics again that year. 

I had mingled politely with Lindsey for about half an hour before giving her the slip and going in search of Trevor, the son of one of my father's vice-presidents. I had found him easily enough with a group of young people about the same age. Trevor had been pursuing me tentatively for several years. That night, I planned to finally give him what he wanted. Maybe not the way he had ever dreamt about it, but, well, no one ever got exactly what they wanted from me, that's just the way it was. 

I sided up to Trevor and snaked my arm around the young man's middle. Trevor made a startled sound and turned to see who was touching him. "Lex," he exclaimed in happy surprise when he saw me standing next to him. 

"Hey Trevor," I said with a smile. It was friendly with just a hint of predatory pursuit in it, a look that I have perfected over the years and which has brought down straighter men than Trevor McKeegan. I knew Trevor would figure out what I wanted. I also knew that the other young people around us would understand and that was what I really wanted. Most of them would ignore us, they had their own vices to see too, but one of Linsey's friends from school, Nancy Gillins was standing not far from Trevor and I was counting on her to grab my bait. She was my target for informant and I was pretty sure she would go running to Lindsey as soon as she knew where I was going with Trevor. 

"Hey," he breathed softly. 

"Come with me?" I asked and felt a shiver run through Trevor's body as he perceived my double meaning. "I'd like to show you something." 

Trevor just nodded, swallowed hard and followed me. I led him across the room and let us into one of the lounges that wasn't being used for the party. I watched carefully and saw Nancy following us. I smiled slyly. This was going to work nicely. Once in the room with the door closed, I pushed Trevor down on one of the couches and climbed on top of him. 

"L... Lex?" Trevor stammered. 

"Don't you want this?" I asked the other man. 

"Yes, of course." 

"Then don't worry," I told him and leaned down to seal our mouths together. 

It didn't take us long to get each other undressed. Trevor was excited and frantic to touch me and I was just in a hurry to get us into the most compromising position possible before we were interrupted. I had thought about how I wanted us to be found. I'd decided that me fucking Trevor would in no way be as effective a scene as me getting fucked by Trevor. So that's how we were when the door opened. I was half kneeling, half lying on the couch with Trevor on top of me and Trevor's dick shoved up my ass. 

Lindsey's gasp I had expected, but my father's voice spitting my name was a surprise, a pleasant enough one to be sure, but still very much a surprise. It was so much better than I had anticipated. Father was furious. I knew that right away. Even angrier than he had been the year before. 

Trevor started mumbling something about how sorry he was and his dick slipped from me. I wasn't really paying attention to him anyhow. Instead I was staring intently at my father and waiting for him to make the next move. 

"Get dressed," my father said tightly. His voice was thick with retrained rage. Trevor scrambled to retrieve his clothes and pulled them on. I simply sat there and stared at my father in defiance. 

"Now, Lex," he snarled. "Unless you want me to drag you out there naked." 

I shrugged and smiled ironically. Dragging me through a room full of Luthor Corp employees and business associates would probably embarrass my father more than it would me. I'm used to my body but it's usually shocking to people the first time they see it. The last thing my father really wants is all those people starring at me and seeing how much of a freak his son and heir truly is. 

We continued to stare each other down. Trevor hovered nervously next to me and looked like he was waiting for an opportunity to bolt from the room. Eventually, I dressed because I knew I wasn't leaving the room until I did. 

I wasn't sure where Lindsey had taken off to but I found out as soon as I exited the lounge. Lindsey stepped up and slapped me hard across the face. It stung and I cried out in surprise. 

"You bastard," she shouted at me. "How could you?" 

I had no answer for her and she really didn't need one. We'd both grown up in that world of power and deception and such things weren't so unheard of. Once again, I knew that she'd been warned about me and I can't understand why people don't take those warnings seriously. Lindsey spun away from me and was gathered up into Nancy's arms. Nancy held her as she sobbed dramatically. 

My father grabbed my arm harshly, the same way he had the previous year, and led me across the room. I didn't cry out like I had done before. I wasn't going to give Father that pleasure twice, but it hurt just the same. "I won't put up with this behavior in my own home. You will leave and go directly back to school. I expect to hear you're back there before the end of the day tomorrow and then I don't want to hear anymore about you except how well you're doing in class until graduation in May." 

I smirked. I'd expected the banishment and wasn't too upset about it. I didn't particularly want to deal with my father until May either. He jerked hard on my arm as we reached the door and my eyes flew up to look squarely at him. 

"Luthors aren't like this, Lex. Give it up before you hurt us more than you already have." He said it in a slightly pleading tone and I wondered if he really was as worried as that would seem to indicate. Maybe there had been rumblings from his business partners about my behavior. If so, maybe it would make him finally take me more seriously. 

I shrugged dramatically and then turned to let myself out of the house. I tore away in my car, drove through the night and was back at Princeton early the next afternoon. I'm sure one of his father's drones dutifully reported that to him. 

So, all of that considered, I'm a little surprised to be invited to this year's party. I turn the envelope over in my hands several times before reaching for the letter opener and slitting the invitation open. I pull out the invitation and open it. A second piece of white notepaper falls out of the envelope and lands on my desk. Interesting. I ignore the slip of paper for a moment. It turns out I was right and it is an invitation to my father's Christmas party on Saturday the 22nd. 

It's short notice and I wonder how long my father contemplated inviting me before sending the invitation. Probably weeks, since the invitations are usually sent out in early November and the postmark on this one was November 30th. Before I had last seen my father after the accident at the plant. I smile ironically and wonder if I should still consider myself invited. I reach down and pick up the folded piece of notepaper on my desk. 

On the top of the paper is the Luthor Corp logo and my father's name. Official stationary. He probably used it to make a point. Below that my father has written a short message: 

Lex,  
You are welcome to attend as long as you plan to behave yourself. Don't even think of pulling something like the last two years. You don't want to test me on this. Lionel 

I drop the paper back down onto my desk. I'm not surprised that my father has placed conditions on my attendance after what I've pulled in the past. If I did go, I would want to bring Clark, but I know how my father would interpret that. We are supposed to be being discreet. That wouldn't be difficult for Clark; he is courteous, if not particularly refined, by nature. It's charming. I know that he would never consciously do anything to embarrass anyone. The real question is whether or not I would be able to keep my hands to myself for the balance of the evening. 

Of course everyone at the party would assume we were together especially after last year. That would be okay, but if I did anything to confirm our relationship my father would likely take it the wrong way, assume I was playing with him again, and ask us to leave. Suspicion is one thing but confirmation is entirely different. 

It's dangerous in a strange dichotomy that both appeals to and frightens me. But if we're caught, it's all over. I know I can't take that risk, no matter how much I would love to be able to take Clark into the city and show him off. There's just too much risk in it. 

I sigh and toss the invitation into the wastebasket under my desk. I should call Father's house and tell him that I'm not coming. I pick up the phone on my desk and hit the speed dial button for my father's office. I'll just leave the message with his secretary. My father can make whatever he wants of that. 

The secretary, Rhonda, picks up on the second ring. "Lionel Luthor's office, how may I help you?" 

"Rhonda, it's Lex," I greet the woman. She's been in my father's employ for the last five years and should know my voice when I call, but she insists on people introducing themselves and, for some reason that I don't understand, I've chosen to comply with her wishes. 

"Good afternoon, Mr. Luthor. Your father is in a meeting right now." 

"It's okay," I say quickly. I really have no desire to speak to my father about this at all. "I'll just leave a message." 

"Of course," Rhonda says. 

There's a soft knock at my door and I look up to see who it is. No one should be bothering me. I left very specific instructions with David, my assistant, to that effect. I'm trying to get a lot of work done this afternoon and don't want to be interrupted. I'm ready to snap at whoever it is, but just smile when I see Clark standing there in my doorway looking casual and sexy. I'm not sure how he managed to get past David but I'm glad that he did. 

"Mr. Luthor, did you want to leave a message?" Rhonda asks. She sounds a little annoyed that I've left her hanging on the line. 

"Yes," I say. "Could you just tell him that I won't be attending the Christmas party this year?" While I'm speaking, I gesture for Clark to come into the room and close the office door behind him. 

"Would you like him to call you?" 

"No, that's not necessary, thank you," I reply. I can imagine Rhonda shaking her head in displeasure on the other end of the line. She hates it that we speak through her most of the time. 

"You're welcome," Rhonda tells him. 

I hang up the phone and turn to face Clark. "Hey, Gorgeous," I say with a smile, which of course makes Clark blush a dark red color. I really enjoy being able to do that to my friend. I'm not really sure if I'm ready for the day when Clark accepts how I see him and stops blushing when I call him that. 

"Hey Lex," Clark mumbles. 

"So?" 

"My mother sent me over," Clark starts. 

I give him a curious look. It isn't produce delivery day and I know my account is up to date so I can't imagine what Clark's mother would send him to speak to me about. How interesting. "Really?" 

"Yeah," Clark says with a nod. "She wants me to invite you to dinner." 

I am startled by that and just stare at my young lover for a long moment. It's probably the last thing I expected Clark to come into my office this afternoon and say. I'm not quite sure how to respond. I want to spend time with Clark, but I'm not sure if I'm ready to tackle dinner with his parents. 

"Lex?" Clark asks. He sounds a little concerned about my hesitation. 

"I don't know," I say slowly. I'm still shocked that Clark's mother would invite me over. And what does it mean? She couldn't possibly suspect, could she? It's only been a week since Clark stayed the night at my house and we've been careful during that time. 

"If you're worried about my father, don't be. My mom says that he's promised to behave." 

"You don't think that she suspects, do you?" I ask carefully. I don't know if I really trust Clark to be objective about his mother's motives in this. She's his mother and for all that he doesn't look it, Clark's still very much a child. But maybe I'm just more suspicious than I should be because of the way my own family would act in a situation like this. 

"No, I don't think so," Clark says. "She hasn't seen me mooning over any pictures of you or anything like that," Clark jokes with a grin. 

Okay, I admit to myself, Clark has a point. It's not like either of us has had a lot of time in the past week to act suspicious. I have been busy at work and Clark has been busy at his parent's place helping them get the farm ready for winter. We've spent a couple of afternoons together and the day Clark delivered my produce he had lingered about an hour longer than necessary but that's it. 

"Okay," I say in agreement. I'm almost surprised to hear the words come out of my mouth. Clark's smiling at me like he's just gotten everything he ever wanted. "When and what time should I come?" 

"Tonight." 

"Tonight?" 

"If you're free," Clark says hesitantly. "I... I just assumed. I mean it's Friday and I didn't think you had anything scheduled." 

I laugh slightly. It's almost scary that Clark knows me so well. I almost suspect him of peaking at my calendar. To think, the boy already has a handle on my schedule and we've only been together for a week. "Yes, I'm free, Clark." I tell him with a smile. 

"Oh," Clark smiles. "Good. We usually eat at six." 

"Should I bring anything?" 

"Umm, maybe you should call my mom and ask her that," Clark suggests. 

"Okay," I tell him and then reach for my phone again. I press the speed dial button that's associated with Clark's number. The phone rings twice before Clark's mother picks up. 

"Mrs. Kent? This is Lex Luthor," I greet her. 

"Hi, Lex," she says happily. "Did Clark speak with you?" 

"Yes." 

"And are you coming to dinner?" 

"Yes, thank you. I wanted to know if there was anything I could bring?" 

"No. Just yourself," she tells me and laughs softly. 

"Okay," I tell her and find that I'm truly smiling. How surprising. Her happiness is infectious. "I'll see you tonight then." 

"Yes. At six?" 

"Six," Lex repeats. 

"Good, I'll be expecting you then. Oh, and could you send Clark home sometime soon? There're a couple of things that he needs to get finished this afternoon." 

"Sure," I say and hang up. I glance over at Clark and smile to myself. 

"So?" Clark asks when I put the phone down. 

"She doesn't want me to bring anything. But she wants you to come home and finish your chores," I tell him seriously. 

Clark looks embarrassed. "Thanks mom," he mumbles so softly that I just barely catch his words. "Umm, I guess I should go then," Clark says louder and looks at me. 

"It's okay," I tell him in a soothing tone. "I have some work that I need to get done this afternoon anyhow. I'll see you tonight." 

"Yep, tonight," Clark confirms. He stands up and comes around my desk and stands next to me. Clark leans down and kisses me quickly. I grin at him as he pulls away and he grins back at me. Clark has a big goofy smile on his face and I'm pretty sure that I do as well. 

"Get out of here, imp," I laugh and wave Clark away as if I were dismissing him. 

Clark laughs, leans down to kiss me one last time and then turns to leave. He heads out of the room and closes the door behind him. I smile at his back and think how nice it is to have someone care about me like he does. 

I turn back to the rest of the paper work on my desk and it hits me all of the sudden. I'm going to dinner at my boyfriend's parent's house. I've never done that before. Women, sure, but that was different. All the women I've ever gone out with have been business associates or in some way connected to my father. Having dinner with their parents had always been a real task. It was formal; I needed to discuss business and watch what I said, be polite but not reveal any secrets. I always knew I was being evaluated not only as a man, but also as a future business partner. This would be different. Besides the fact that the Kents don't know Clark and I are together, they're nothing like anyone I've ever known before. I'm not sure if I'm looking forward to that or not. 

* * *

I pull up in the Kents' driveway just after five-thirty. I showered and changed after speaking with Clark this afternoon and am now wearing a pair of casual dark gray pants and a blue knit sweater that Clark has commented on in the past. I assumed the Kents would be more comfortable with me dressed like this than the business suit I had been wearing earlier in the day. 

I turn off the engine and step out of the car. It's early December in Kansas and it's chilly. I quickly debate whether I should bring my jacket. I will probably go straight inside the house, but it never hurts to plan ahead. I decide to bring it after all. I grab the jacket and the flowers I've brought for Clark's mom from the passenger seat of my car and then close the door and lock it. The car makes a happy little beeping noise that indicates the alarm is set. I doubt I'll need the alarm here, unless the Kents' cows decide to become hostile, but it's a habit. 

I'm half way to the front door when Clark's voice halts me. "Lex?" I turn around to look at the young man. Clark is standing in the entrance to the barn looking sweaty and sexy. He's been working. I love that look on him, all hot and masculine. 

"Hey Clark," I say casually and then head towards where he's standing. 

"You're early," he says as I approach him. 

I shrug casually. It's no big deal, right? Not like I was nervously sitting in my office and counting the minutes before I was going to leave, or anything like that. No, of course not. It's not like I've been invited to have dinner with my boyfriend's parents for the first time either. Parents who have no clue that their son and I are anything more than friends and who would not be happy to find out that we are. Parents who dislike my family and a father who hates my father so much that he's never given me a chance because of it. Okay, so I'm officially starting to panic here. 

"Yeah, I was finished early and thought I would just come over," I say with a shrug. 

Clark nods. We meet at the entrance of the barn and I gently guide us inside and into the shadows. I take a quick look around to make sure we're alone. We are and so I reach up, draw Clark down and kiss him softly in greeting. 

"Mmm, minty," Clark says with a grin as we break apart. 

I smile and laugh at his comment. I brushed my teeth right before I left the house. Clark must still be able to taste it in my mouth. 

"Trying to make a good impression?" Clark asks. 

"Always." 

He grins. "The flowers are for my mom?" he asks and gestures down towards my hand. 

"Yes," I tell him. I draw the flowers up and look at them. Clark's mom told me that I didn't need to bring anything but that made me uncomfortable. I wasn't about to come to their house, eat their food and bring nothing. Originally I had thought to bring wine, after all I had an entire cellar full of it, but then realized it would probably come off as pretentious and Clark wouldn't be able to drink it anyhow. So I had decided to get Mrs. Kent flowers. They were nice, a little less extravagant than I would have liked but I also knew that in this case less would be more. 

"Good," Clark jokes, "because I'm much too manly to be getting flowers from you." 

I give him an up and down look. He's beautiful and I wish we were truly alone and not just hiding out here in his parent's barn. "Oh, I don't know about that," I tell him and give him a leer. 

Clark blushes slightly and laughs. I can barely see it in the low light, but I know it's there. "Well maybe, but my parents would think you're weird." 

I shrug. "They already do." 

Clark laughs again and then leans down to kiss me deeply. His tongue pushes into my mouth and begins a slow exploration of the interior. I moan and lean into him. For several minutes I forget where we are and allow myself to get lost in the sensation. Eventually I push away from Clark. I'm gentle about it but still receive a questioning look from the younger man. 

"Do you really want to get me all excited before going inside to eat with your parents?" I tease him gently. 

"Maybe not," Clark admits and grins cheekily at me. 

I grin goofily back at him. Being with Clark feels so good that sometimes I wonder if it's real. I have never felt as at ease as I do in this moment with him. 

"So, are you done whatever manly stuff you were doing out here?" I ask Clark after a few more minutes of goofy grinning. I briefly look around the barn to see if I can figure out what it is he was doing, but it just looks like a barn, the same as the last time I was here. 

"Umm, yeah. Enough for tonight anyhow," Clark tells me with a nod. "We should go inside. I need to clean up before dinner and you must be getting cold." 

I think about that for a moment. I hadn't noticed until Clark mentioned it, but I am cold. "Maybe I should have actually put this on," I say sarcastically and look down at the jacket still draped over my arm. 

"Could have helped," Clark agrees. He reaches down and wraps him arm around mine. "Come on, let's go in." Clark gently pulls and leads me out of the barn. He drops my arm almost immediately when we leave the building and then head into the house. 

"Mom, Lex is here," Clark announces as we enter the kitchen. 

His mom turns from what she was doing at the stove and looks at us. "Lex," she greets me with a smile that reminds me so much of Clark's that for a second I forget that she's not his biological mother. "I thought I had heard you pull up a few minutes ago." 

"Yes," I tell her with a nod. "Clark was just showing me something in the barn." 

"Oh?" Mrs. Kent asks. Opps. I hadn't counted on her natural curiosity about what Clark was doing. 

"The telescope," Clark says sharply before I have a chance to respond. 

Mrs. Kent looks at her son strangely before her eyes slide back to me. I know that she's trying to figure out why Clark sounded like he'd been caught at something he shouldn't have been doing. If Clark's always going to be this obvious around his parents than we have to seriously rethink the wisdom of being together around them. 

"These are for you," I say and present the flowers I'm holding to Clark's mother. 

"Oh," she says and reaches to take the flowers from me. "You shouldn't have, Lex." She turns back to the counter and opens one of the cupboards. 

"You invited me to dinner and wouldn't allow me to bring anything," I say by way of explanation. "It was the least I could do." 

"Well, thank you, then," Mrs. Kent says. She places the flowers in a glass vase and then turns back to face us. Her face is lit up in a broad smile. I am glad she's happy, but this reaction seems somehow more than I had expected. I look over at Clark speculatively and wonder how long it's been since either him or his father bought flowers for his mom. 

Clark's father comes into the house then. He looks at me and I can tell that he's not happy to see me here. He doesn't say anything, though, just walks past the three of us and heads upstairs. Mrs. Kent sends Clark to wash up for dinner and he disappears upstairs as well. She seats me at the table and we chat about nothing much while she finishes dinner. 

When Clark and his father come back downstairs, Clark's mother brings dinner out and places it on the table. It's chicken, rice and vegetables. The food is nothing fancy but it's good and I tell Mrs. Kent so. I wonder how much of what we're eating was grown here on the farm. 

Everything is going okay until Clark's father asks me something I haven't spoken with Clark about yet, something that I had planned on talking to him about in the near future though. "So, Lex, how long are you planning on staying here in Smallville?" 

I stop eating and just look at Mr. Kent for a moment. I'm trying to see what the man's intention is with the question. Maybe he's trying to show Clark how being my friend can be painful. You shouldn't be friends with that Luthor kid, Clark, he'll just end up leaving soon anyhow. 

"Well I'm supposed to return to school in September. I've been accepted into a master's program at Yale," I say smoothly to Clark's father. Beside me, I can hear Clark's fork hit his plate harder than he intended and scrape across it. Mr. Kent smirks slightly at me and I know the man thinks that he's won. 

"Yale?" Clark's mother asks. She seems to be oblivious to the behavior of the other men in the room but I truly doubt that she is. Mrs. Kent is much more perceptive than a lot of people seem to give her credit for. I know already that if either of Clark's parents figures us out, it will be her. "That's a long way from here." 

I nod. "I did my undergrad at Princeton," I supply. Clark's still tense beside me and I can almost feel the anxiety coming off my young lover in waves. "I don't think I'll be going though," I say with a shrug. I know I need to keep it casual here and not let on that their son may have anything at all to do with my decision. Of course Clark isn't helping much. He's looking alternately stunned and happy from where he's sitting next to me. 

Yes Clark, I think, I'm staying because of you. Now stop grinning like an idiot before your parents figure it out too. 

"Oh?" Mrs. Kent asks. She sounds a little surprised. 

Clark's father is staring at me and weighing my answer. I'm smirking inside. I know I'll always win with Clark. He'll always come back to me no matter what his father thinks. 

"My father wants me to stay another year. He doesn't think I can learn everything he wants me to by the time school starts again. As much as I hate to, I have to agree with him," I tell them smoothly. It's a lie, of course. I have never had a conversation like that with my father, although I know that if I express interest he will allow me to stay at least another year. It's a good trade off, another year of hell for the privilege of being with Clark. I will willingly pay that price. 

I shrug like that is the end of the conversation and then continue to eat my dinner. Eventually Clark's parents start talking about something else and the attention is taken off of me. The rest of dinner passes uneventfully. 

When we're finished eating, I offer to clean up, with Clark's help of course. Both of Clark's parents act as though having a Luthor clean their kitchen is the last thing they ever expected to happen. It probably is. I do what I consider a fairly good job of convincing Mrs. Kent that I actually have some clue as to what to do in a kitchen and she eventually gives in and allows us to do the washing up. 

As they leave the kitchen, Clark's father grunts as if I have finally done something that he approves of and I think that I just might have. It's odd how much that little grunt of approval means to me. 

Clark's parents head into the living room and turn on the television. I'm not positive, but I think that they may be watching Wheel of Fortune. It's just so normal. 

"You've never done this before, have you?" Clark asks me quietly. His voice is full of laughter and he's grinning broadly. I feel my stomach clench at how beautiful he looks like that. Washing the dishes is definitely worth it to get that look from Clark. 

"Oh yeah, every billionaire's son learns how to do the dishes, Clark," I tell him with mock seriousness. 

Clark laughs softly. "My dad thought it was pretty cool that you offered," he says. Clark turns on the water in the sink and waits for it to run hot before he puts the plug in. 

"I know," I tell him. 

"Is that why you did it?" 

"You know, Clark, sometimes I just do things because they are the right thing to do and not because I'm a manipulative bastard," I snap and instantly wish I hadn't. 

"Whoa, okay Lex," Clark says and holds his hands up in a protest of innocence. "I'm sorry." 

"No," I sigh. "I'm sorry. I just take things too personally sometimes," I tell him. It's true, but it's hard not to when people judge you before they ever meet you just because of who your father is. 

Clark nods his understanding. He goes under the sink for the dish soap and then adds it to the water in the sink. He grabs a dishtowel from a hanger on the door under the sink and tosses it to me. "You can dry," he says and then starts washing the plates we used. 

I can tell that he's thinking about something and so I leave Clark to his own thoughts for a moment. Drying sounds easy to me and it turns out that it is. I wipe the plates and stack them on the counter. I assume that Clark will either put them away himself or show me where to put them later. 

"Your dad's really that rich?" Clark asks softly after a few minutes. We're almost done the easy dishes by this point. Clark will be moving on to the pots soon. They look rather disgusting. I'm glad that I'm not the one with my hands in the dirty water. 

"Yeah," I tell him with a shrug, "is that a problem?" 

"No," Clark says absently. "I always knew about the money. I mean how couldn't I, right? It's just... wow. I can't even imagine that much money." 

"It's best if you don't try," I advise him with a small smile. 

"You know this from experience?" 

"Yep." 

Clark laughs and then flicks some suds at me. I pretend to ignore him and so Clark does it again. I laugh and wipe the soapy bubbles off my face. I want to lean in and kiss him, make sure that everything is okay between us, but I know that I can't. Not with Clark's parents in the other room and not even a door between us. 

"Don't start anything you can't finish in front of your parents, Gorgeous," I say softly and reach into his sink to flick some suds back at him. 

Clark smiles and a blush creeps up onto his face. "We can go back out to the barn after we're done," he suggests. 

I shiver. "It's December. In Kansas. It'll be freezing out there." 

"You didn't seem to notice earlier." 

I snort. "Temporary insanity?" 

"I'll keep you warm," Clark offers. 

"Yeah?" 

"Of course," he says with a suggestive smile. 

I shiver again but this time it has nothing at all to do with thoughts of how cold it is outside. God, he's going to be the death of me. I turn back to the sink and grab another plate to dry. "Finish," I say roughly. It's not often that my voice sounds like that. 

Clark laughs and starts in on the dishes again. We finish the washing in what must be record time. I'm not sure, but I think that it must usually take longer to finish this job. Clark goes into the living room to tell his parents we're going outside. His father reminds him not to stay out too late because there's a lot of work to be done tomorrow. Clark assures them he'll be in before they have to worry. 

We exit the house and manage to walk for all of maybe ten seconds before we're both dashing across the yard towards the barn. Clark's ahead of me. His legs are longer and he can cover the distance better than I can. He enters the barn first and when I come through the entrance, I feel his arms wrap around my waist. Clark pulls me towards him and then uses his momentum to pin me to the wall behind us. 

Clark's mouth is literally devouring me before I can even realize what's happening. His lips are hot on mine and his tongue is deep in my mouth. I moan loudly. This is more wonderful than I could have imagined. We kiss for several long moments before Clark finally pulls away. My hands are tangled in Clark's sweater. I stumble forward and bump into him. 

"Upstairs?" Clark asks. 

I nod and then follow Clark as he leads us up the stairs to the loft. I'm somehow not surprised when Clark pulls an old sleeping bag and a large blanket out of the corner. He's been expecting us to come up here and do this for some time. That really turns me on. Clark smiles at me when he sees the stupid grin I have on my face. 

He opens the sleeping bag and quickly spreads it out on the floor. After toeing off his shoes, he sits down on the bag and motions for me to join him. I kick off my own shoes and sit down next to him. We kiss slowly again before Clark draws the blanket over the two of us and we lie down. 

We undress each other quickly. Our clothes are carelessly thrown in a jumbled heap next to the makeshift bed. We press our naked bodies together and gasp as our cocks slide against each other. I have my mouth pressed into Clark's chest to muffle the sounds I know I'm making. Clark's also quiet and since I can't see his face, I can only assume that he's biting his lip. I tilt my head up for a kiss and see that I'm right. Clark seems to be concentrating quite hard on keeping quiet. He understands my desire and leans down to capture my mouth with his own. It's a little awkward, but it feels so good to be kissing while we make love that we are both willing to put up with the discomfort. 

Clark starts moving roughly against me and I automatically follow his lead. We've done this a couple of time now and we're starting to find our own rhythm. Our cocks rub together, slick with pre-come. It's intense, it always is between us, but the possibility of being caught out here by Clark's parents adds a hint of excitement that makes it even better. 

Clark comes first. He always does, but he's got that teenaged stamina on his side and he's almost always ready to go again right away. I'm not that much older, but I don't remember it ever being quite like that with me. I feel Clark's cock twitch violently and then he's coming. His come pulses between us, onto our bellies and down over our cocks. It's the feeling of Clark's warm come running over my cock that pulls me over the edge and I come moaning Clark's name into his mouth. 

I sigh happily in my orgasm induced high and snuggle into Clark's chest. Clark just holds me as we both fall back to Earth. I have never liked being held before but when Clark does it, it just feels right. There's no other word for it. 

"We needed that," Clark observes after a few minutes of silent bliss. 

I hum my agreement. I'm still pre-verbal and couldn't string together two words if my life depended on it. We lie there for several more minutes in silence before I roll over and Clark snugs himself up against my back. Clark's got a wonderful view of the sky up here and I can't resist looking out the window at it. It feels like I can see for miles and I probably can. 

"This is nice," I say after a few moments of snuggling and stargazing. 

"Mmm," Clark mutters. 

"The stars. Us," I clarify. 

"Yes," Clark agrees. "You're not cold, are you?" 

I think for a second and then realize that I'm not cold at all. "No," I tell Clark and then snuggle up tighter against my young lover. "You're the best bed warmer I've ever had," I joke. 

"Good," Clark says and I can hear the grin in his words. 

We lie here in silence for several minutes. It's funny how just being together like this with Clark can make me feel so content. Clark's hand runs lazily over my chest, drawing circles around my nipples and a line down to my navel. 

"You're staying for me?" Clark asks quietly after a few moments. 

"Yeah," Lex says softly. 

"What about school?" 

"I'll apply again when I'm ready to go back," I tell him. "I'm not sure if I want to take the program I'm enrolled in anymore, anyhow." 

"No?" Clark asks. Curiosity is clear in his voice. 

"It's law, corporate law. My father's choice. I'm thinking of switching to a master's program in biochemistry." 

"That's what you really want to do?" Clark asks me softly. He's still running his hands over my chest. 

"I think so. I've never really been allowed to imagine what I would do if I could choose my own future," I say truthfully. 

Clark nods and holds me tighter. I snuggle back against him in response. I don't know how many years I will be able to put off my return to school but I will worry about that when the time comes. For now I have Clark and I will spend as much time as possible with him. 

"Are you going home for Christmas?" Clark asks suddenly after a few moments of silence. 

"Home," I say with a snort and then turn in Clark's arms to face him. "What makes you ask that?" It probably comes out sharper than I intended because Clark pulls away from me slightly and looks like he doesn't quite understand what he's done wrong. 

"On the phone earlier, you said something about a Christmas party?" Clark tells me. 

"I'm not going," I say decisively. 

"You should see your family at Christmas, Lex. That's what the holiday is about," Clark insists. 

I laugh. It's a cold laugh, the one I use when I want people to think I don't care even though I do. "I think that part of the holiday is lost on my father. Don't worry about me though, I'll keep myself occupied." 

Clark closes his eyes slightly and thinks for a moment before speaking again. "It has something to do with me, doesn't it, the reason why you're not going to the party this year?" When Clark opens his eyes again, they're full of concern. 

Sometimes Clark is too perceptive for his own good. The last thing I want him to think is that he's causing a rift between my father and me because nothing could be further from the truth. The rift has been there for years and it will still be there regardless of anything that Clark may have done or will do in the future. 

"Clark," I say and reach out to pleat my fingers through his thick hair, "the party is always dreadful. The only way I would want to go is if you were with me, but we can't have that yet. We need to be discreet, for both our sakes, and taking you to my father's exclusive party would not fall into anyone's definition of discreet." 

Clark stares intently at me for a few moments and eventually nods. "I'm sorry," he says softly. 

"Hey," I insist and reach out to touch Clark's shoulder, "don't be sorry. None of this is your fault." 

"If I wasn't so young, everything would be easier," Clark whispers. 

"If you weren't so young, you wouldn't be you," I tell Clark with a small grin. "Besides we're not missing much by not going. My father usually ignores me all evening and then takes off the next day to wherever he's spending the holidays that year. I heard that this year he's going to Aspen with his current mistress." 

"He doesn't usually spend the holidays with you?" 

"No," I tell Clark, "but as I said, don't worry. There's lots of work that needs to be done and I will keep myself busy." 

Clark looks at me like he thinks I just may have finally snapped. "You're going to work? On Christmas?" 

"Yeah, why not?" I ask. 

"No," Clark says. 

"No?" I repeat. 

"No," Clark says again. "You can spend Christmas with us." 

Oh now, I don't think that's the best idea. Besides the fact that Clark's father still dislikes me intensely, no matter how much I may have impressed him tonight, there's no way I want to spend the holiday watching Family Kent being all lovey and happy. I still remember what Christmas was like when my mother was alive and I imagine whatever Clark has is even better. There's no possible way I could handle that. "I don't think so, Clark," I tell him. 

"Why not?" 

"I just... I just don't think it's a very good idea," I say, my voice catching as I continue to see memories of my mother flashing through my mind. 

"Please?" Clark pleads. "For me?" He gives me his sad puppy dog look. 

Ooh Clark, not fair. But I still can't. "No, Clark. I'm sorry, but I just can't." 

Clark stares at me for a few moments and then nods sadly. "It's okay. I'll call you though." 

"Okay," I say and nod. 

Clark smiles softly at me and then draws me back into his arms. I snuggle deeply into his chest and close my eyes. It's so peaceful here with him and it's easy to forget all the hurt in my past. Easy to forget that these few moments of peace are only stolen ones. What I would give to be able to be open about our relationship. 

We lie there for a long time, just being together. Eventually I feel myself drifting off into sleep. I know I can't allow that though and I sit up to prevent it. 

Clark draws himself up beside me, pulls the blanket with him and wraps both it and himself around me. "You okay?" he asks me gently. 

"Yes," I tell him. "Just getting tired. I don't want to accidentally fall asleep out here with you." 

I can feel him nodding his agreement behind me. We sit there for a few more minutes in contented silence. 

"It's getting late," I finally say. 

"Yes," Clark agrees. 

"I should go before your parents start wondering just what it is we've been doing out here for so long." 

"I guess," Clark says and releases me slightly. He sounds as reluctant as I feel. 

I use the corner of the blanket to wipe myself off and then look for where my clothing has landed. I slip from his arms, which means leaving both his living heat and the warmth of the blanket. I dress as quickly as possible but I'm still shivering in the end. 

I turn back to see that Clark's dressed as well. He's still seated on the floor and I'm not quite sure how he managed to dress himself from that position. Clark reaches out for me again and draws me back into his warm embrace. He holds me until I stop shivering. 

"Lex?" he asks softly after I've settled down. He sounds serious and I wonder what he wants to speak about now. 

"Yes, Gorgeous?" 

Clark blushes predictably and looks away for a minute before continuing with what he wants to tell me. "I... I really like you, Lex," he says quietly. 

Ah shit. See, I knew this was going to happen. Clark's holding perfectly still so I know what he meant is not really what came out of his mouth. What he meant is so much more than he's ready to say. Love. God. He's not the first to tell me that, but he's definitely the only one I've even wished I could return it to. I can't though. I don't know what it is, but I know that it's so much more than I'm capable of. 

"I like you too, Clark," I tell him. I've deliberately misinterpreted what he's said and I think he probably knows it. It's all I can give though. I like you, Clark. I like being with you, I like who I am when I'm with you. I want to be with you and I miss you when we're apart. It's all I'm capable of giving. I can only hope it's enough, even though I know it probably isn't. I'm not going to be able to hold onto someone like Clark with just that. For the first time in my life, I feel worry over losing a lover. 

Shit. Okay now I'm freaking out. Don't panic, Lex, you're the adult here, remember? Yeah right. Because I'm so mature and know exactly what I'm doing. And when exactly did I start talking to myself? 

"Lex?" Clark says sharply and it cuts through the rambling in my brain. 

"Yeah?" 

"Are you okay? Are... are we okay?" he asks me. His voice is shaky and I know he's worried that I'm angry with him. 

"Yes, we're fine," I tell him sincerely. "I'm sorry, Clark. I'm just fucked up." 

"It's not that bad," Clark says. 

"Yes, it is," I argue with a little self-depreciating laugh. 

"It really isn't," Clark insists. "I happen to like you just how you are." I don't know what to say in response to that and so I stay silent. He really cares for me. I'm not sure how to react to the feeling that thought spawns inside me. "I'm glad," I eventually reply. "But I really do need to go." 

"Okay," Clark nods after a moment and then lets me up. I stand and reach down to help Clark up as well. 

We quickly clean up the blanket and sleeping bag we were using. I steal one last kiss from him and then we leave the barn. We walk to my car together. I unlock it and am availed of yet more happy beeping noises. Clark smiles and I smile back at him. Okay, I know it's a farm but there could be people hanging around looking for a car to steal. There really could be. 

"Have a good night, Clark," I tell him. 

"I will. You too," he tells me. 

I smile then reach out and touch his fingers with mine. I want to kiss him again, but I know it's too dangerous. His parents could look out the window at any moment and see us. Touching is risky enough. 

I climb into the car and turn on the engine. He's smiling at me and I smile back at him then pull out of the Kent's driveway and head home. 

* * *

It's Christmas Eve and I'm sitting in my office reviewing last quarter's operational reports and nursing a bottle of scotch. It isn't all that different from the way I've spent most Christmas Eves since my mother died but somehow this year it seems even more lonely than usual. Probably because I know that I could be with Clark and his family if only I had agreed to Clark's invitation, but I didn't. I couldn't. 

It was just too much. To be reminded of everything I had lost that awful fall day when my father had come to tell me that my mother had died in a car accident. He'd simply walked in, told me and then left again, as if he was relaying the latest stock price of Luthor Corp or something as benign. He'd flown to Japan the next morning to close a business deal, leaving me alone to deal with my grief. He'd barely even made it back for the funeral. He drove straight from the airport, sat next to me during the service and then left before the reception ended to go to his office. 

I loved my mother more than life. In his own way, I think my father did as well. He was never the same after her death. That was when he really started to distance himself from me and everyone else, when he became so cold and focused. Looking back I know that he was hurting as much as I was, but didn't know how to express his grief. 

My mother and I had a Christmas tradition. It started the afternoon of Christmas Eve when we would make sugar cookies. She had all these little cookie cutters with different Christmas shapes; Santa, stars, angels, snowmen, trees and a number of others that I can't remember. We would make a whole bunch of each kind and then spend all afternoon decorating them. While we were doing that she would tell me stories of different places and faraway lands, of princes and princesses and evil wizards and Christmases long past. My mother had a wonderful imagination. Sometimes at night I can close my eyes and still hear her telling me those stories. After dinner, we would watch How The Grinch Stole Christmas. It was always my favorite Christmas movie and we would recite the lines along with the characters. Later, we would go to Midnight Mass. My mother was Catholic and I was baptized as a baby after much pleading on her part. She even managed to convince my father to let me take First Communion when I was eight. She went to mass every week, but I was only allowed to go on Christmas and whenever my father was out of town, as long as I promised not to tell. My father thought religion was a weakness that the Luthor's didn't need. Personally I never really got into the religion aspect either, but the rituals of the Church always captivated me and I loved going just so I could watch and listen to them. 

When my mother died, Christmas died in our house as well. Oh every year there was a tree and presents but the heart and soul of the holiday was gone. My father always seemed uncomfortable and avoided me as much as possible. When I turned fifteen, he decided I was old enough to be left home alone. That's when he started leaving town to be with whomever was at the top of his current list of whores. That was also the first year I spent the holiday drunk. One of the servants found me and carried me to bed after I passed out. I've spent every Christmas Eve since either drunk or high. It's a new Luthor family tradition. A fine tradition and one I intend to perpetuate this year as well. 

I think it's time to move my little party from my office, though. The lines on the pages of the report are starting to blur together. If I go downstairs, I can sprawl out on one of the couches, turn on the big television and finish my bottle of expensive scotch while watching some good porn. Might even manage to get myself off in the process. 

I stand up, grab my bottle and carefully make my way down the stairs. I settle myself onto the couch and turn on the television. It takes a few minutes, but I eventually select a channel I want to watch. I pour myself another glass from my bottle and settle back to watch a small blond haired man getting fucked by a larger black haired man. The black haired one even manages to look vaguely like Clark, if I squint, and the more drunk I became the more he looks like my lover. 

I've been down here watching the tv, getting drunk, and stroking my own dick for a good half an hour or so when my phone starts ringing. I fish it out of my pocket and toss it on the floor in disgust. I let it ring out; it rings six times and then goes to voice mail. Whoever's calling can fucking well leave a message and I'll call them back tomorrow. Apparently that's not good enough for the caller though because a minute later my phone starts to ring again. I sigh loudly and reach down to pick up the offending item. I spill some of my scotch on the carpet in the process and swear loudly at the waste. 

"What?" I snap into the phone when I finally manage to fumble it up to my ear. 

"Lex?" 

"Clark?" I ask hesitantly. I've just been thinking about him, so I'm not sure if it's really him or I'm just projecting what I want to hear. 

"Yeah. Are you okay? Did I call at a bad time?" 

"No, Gorgeous," I say with a chuckle. "'verything's fine." Even I can tell that my words are slurred together. 

"Lex, are you drunk?" Clark asks softly. 

"Not quite yet," I tell him, "but soon." I laugh at that. It seems incredibly funny. 

The volume on the television suddenly increases and my eyes are drawn towards it. Blondie is getting fucked by my black haired man again and he sounds like he's enjoying it way too much. 

"What's going on there?" Clark asks me. He sounds like he's scared to hear the answer but needs to ask to make sure that I'm okay. 

"'s just the television," I tell him. I grab for the remote and drop it once before managing to mute the volume. 

"Okay, Lex," Clark says in a voice that leaves little room for bullshit, "what are you doing?" 

"Watching tv and getting drunk," I tell him. "I thought we'd pretty much 'stablished that." 

"Okay," Clark says with a sigh. "Look just hold tight, I'm going to come over there and get you, okay?" 

"Get me?" I ask. I'm not sure what he means, but I do grasp that Clark's coming over. That's nice. Maybe we can fuck. That would be nice too. I smile at my thoughts. 

"I'm bringing you home," Clark tells me. "You're not staying alone tonight." 

"Home," I repeat sadly. I can feel tears pricking at the back of my eyes just from the thought of what it must be like to have a real home. Clark's going to take me home. How nice. So much more than I had ever hoped for. 

"Just stay there, I'll be over in fifteen minutes." 

"'kay," I agree happily and hang up the phone. I drop it on the floor next to my bottle of scotch and then reach for the television remote to turn the sound back on. 

True to his word, Clark shows up fifteen minutes later. He knocks loudly several times before I remember that I need to get up to let him in because I've given Randolph the night off. I stumble to the door and open it. Clark comes in and glares at me in disapproval. Whatever. I'm still glad to see him. 

"Hey, Gorgeous," I greet him and smile. 

"Don't even start with me, Lex," Clark says and closes the door behind him. I wonder where he's picked up that tone from. His mother? I can almost imagine Mrs. Kent using that tone with her boy when she is at the end of her patience. Mr. Kent? He's probably just a yeller. 

Clark moves into the house and heads to the room where I've been watching television. When I stumble in a moment later, he's staring at what's playing on the screen. He looks at me with a combination of surprise and hurt before clicking it off. "I'm not even going to ask you why you're watching that," he says and tosses the remote on the couch. 

Before I can answer, he's heading out of the room again. He leads us up to the second floor and it only takes a moment for my clouded brain to figure out we're headed towards my bedroom. Yeah Clark, that's more like it. We step inside and I reach for him. 

I draw him into my arms and kiss him deeply. He's so warm. This is so good. I need him so bad. I need him to drive away the hurt and the pain and the loneliness and make me whole, just for one night. I slip my tongue deeply into his mouth and begin exploring his warm heat. I moan and close my eyes. "Want to fuck you, Clark," I say against his mouth. 

The next thing I know, I'm being shoved none too gently against the wall of my room. I snap my eyes open to look at Clark. "No," he says firmly. 

"No," I repeat. It doesn't seem to make any sense. 

"We're just here so that you can get a change of clothing for tomorrow." 

I stare up at him stupidly for a moment. Eventually I remember that he's here to take me home to his house. "Umm," I mumble. 

Clark sighs. "Okay, look," he says. "You sit over there on the couch and I'll grab you some clothing, okay?" 

That sounds reasonable. I nod and go to seat myself on the couch. I watch Clark as he goes about his business in my room. He digs in my closet for a moment, pulls out a bag and then proceeds to stuff clothing into in it for me. A minute later he disappears into the bathroom. When he comes back out, he walks over to where I'm sitting and motions for me to stand up. 

"Let's go," he says. 

I nod and follow him out of the house. As we leave, he reminds me to set the security alarm on the house since nobody will be there. It takes me a good five minutes to get it right, but eventually I get the damned thing set. Clark loads me and my stuff up into his father's truck and then climbs into the driver's seat. I smile stupidly at him and he just shakes his head. 

"I can't believe you, Lex," he says softly. "Why would you do this?" 

"Tradition," I say happily. 

"Tradition?" Clark snaps. He sounds like he can't believe me. "Getting drunk and watching porn?" 

I laugh. "High usually," I tell him, "but I don't do that 'nymore so alcohol has to make do and there's usually more people involved in the sex part." 

Clark doesn't respond, but when I look over at him, he looks angry. He almost looks like he might be grinding his teeth together. I sigh, lean back against the seat and then close my eyes. As far as Christmas Eves go, this hasn't been that bad. At least I got to see Clark. 

* * *

I wake up to the sound of someone knocking loudly on my door. I groan and roll over in bed. My head feels like it's about to explode and I need to piss like something awful. What the fuck happened to me last night? I haven't gotten truly drunk for months. 

"What?" I grunt to whomever is pounding on the door. 

My door opens. What the fuck? Did I forget to lock it last night? And even if I did, who the hell was coming in without being invited. "Get up," Clark tells me. 

Clark? What the hell is going on? I open my eyes and realize I'm not in my own room. Where I am is somewhere I've never been before but it looks like it might be Clark's room. Clark's room? At his house? I have no idea how I got here. The last thing I remember was... Ah fuck. I remember planning on drinking myself stupid and then going downstairs to accomplish it. I also vaguely remember talking to Clark on the phone, but I'm not sure what I said. 

Clark moves across the room and pulls open his curtains. The light pours in and I squeeze my eyes shut against the brightness. "What time is it?" I ask him. 

"Ten. Definitely time to get up. My parents are waiting breakfast on you," he tells me. 

"Umm, isn't it a little late for breakfast at your house?" I ask him. 

Clark snorts. "Everyone gets to sleep in on Christmas Day. Usually not as late as you, but then we don't usually drink until we pass out on Christmas Eve either." 

Ah double fuck. I groan and sit up in bed. Clark comes to sit next to me on the bed and places his hand on top of mine. "Look, it's okay," he tells me gently. "We'll talk about this later. Just get dressed and washed up and come down for breakfast so that my parents will get off my back, okay?" His eyes are full of acceptance and forgiveness and love. He's not angry at me, just concerned about what could have driven me to abuse myself the way I did last night. I don't know if I'll be able to share that with him, to explain the pain I've carried with me since I was thirteen and both my parent's left me on the same day, but I so desperately want to. 

"Okay," I say softly. 

"Good." Clark smiles and then stands up. "That bag has a change of clothing and your bathroom stuff in it," he tells me and points to my black bag, which is lying on the floor next to the foot of the bed. "Get changed. The bathroom is the last door on the left." 

I nod softly, careful not to move my head too much. Clark smiles again and then leans down to place a kiss on my lips. He makes a face as he pulls away. "Don't forget to brush your teeth," he tells me and then heads out of the room closing the door behind him. 

I sigh and roll out of bed. I so do not deserve someone as understanding as Clark. He cares so much. He's six years younger than me and still he insists on taking care of me. I reach down and grab my bag. I open it and pull the clothing out. Inside are a pair of black pants, a dark green sweater and a pair of underwear. I look at the pants and desperately wish that someone were here who could iron them for me. But no one is. I couldn't ask Clark's mother to do it for me, not after the shit I must have put everyone through last night, and I don't know how to do it myself so they're just going to have to stay wrinkled. They're better than the ones I'm currently wearing that have been slept in anyhow, so that's something. 

I head to the bathroom and shower quickly. I brush my teeth as per Clark's order. I would have done it anyhow, but the thought of doing it at Clark's request makes me smile, so I go with that. I dress quickly and then shove my dirty clothes into my now empty bag. I drop the bag in Clark's room before heading downstairs. 

I'm not sure what to expect when I step into the kitchen. Clark's parents are standing by the stove. Mrs. Kent is cooking something in a frying pan and Clark's dad has one of his arms wrapped around her waist. They're speaking softly and I can't hear what they're saying, but they look happy. Clark is sitting at the table eating an apple out of the dish in the middle. He smiles at me as I enter. 

"Hey, Lex," he greets me. 

I nod. His parents turn to look at me. I reach up to run my hand over my head and then snatch it back before I can complete the motion. God damned nervous habit. 

"Good morning, Lex," Mrs. Kent greets me. Clark's father just nods at me and watches me as I cross the room to sit down next to Clark. 

"Morning," I greet them. 

Clark offers me an apple from the bowl on the table and I take it from him. I'm not overly fond of apples, but I'm more than happy to have something to do with my mouth other than have to speak to anyone right now. This is possibly the most embarrassing moment in my life and that's saying a lot. Maybe it's just that I actually care what these people think of me, unlike most of the world. 

"Do you like pancakes, Lex?" Mrs. Kent asks me after a moment. 

"Umm, yeah," I tell her. She smiles back at me. 

"And bacon?" 

"Yep." 

"Do you want eggs on your pancakes? Clark likes them that way." 

I look over at Clark, who simply shrugs. "Dad likes them that way too. Mom doesn't." 

"You put the egg on the pancake?" I ask him. I've never heard of such a thing. 

"Yeah," Clark tells me with a smile. "And then you break the yoke and kind of let the pancake soak it up. It's really good. You should try it," he insists when I look at him like he's insane. 

"Umm, okay," I say. "One egg," I tell his mother. She nods and turns back to the stove. 

"You better not be screwing with me, Clark," I hiss. 

"Nah," Clark says with a laugh. "It really is good. Farm specialty, I swear." 

"Okay then," I say and resume eating my apple. 

Clark smiles at me and we spend a couple of minutes while his parents are distracted at the stove just looking at each other. Eventually Clark's mom finishes cooking and brings the food to the table. I look away from Clark and concentrate on looking happy yet slightly bored. 

Mrs. Kent places a plate of food in front of me and then serves everyone else. On my plate is a pancake with an egg on top of it and another pancake beside it. I wait for Mrs. Kent to sit down before I begin eating. I can see Clark already tearing into his plate. Once everyone's seated, I try the egg and pancake combo that Clark swears by. It's actually pretty good. Better than I had expected. Next to me I can see Clark's drenched his in ketchup. I can't imagine trying that though. Ketchup on pancakes is kind of where I draw the line at weird food combinations. On my other pancake I spread butter and syrup. I eat it quickly. It's been a long time since I had a breakfast like this. Usually it's coffee and fruit in the morning, maybe some toast or cereal, but that's it. 

"Help yourself to more," Clark's mom invites me when I'm finished what's on my plate. I glance at the plates of food on the table and then over at Clark who nods encouragingly at me. 

I grab a couple more pancakes and some bacon. That's definitely going to be the limit for me though. There's no way I want to spend the balance of the morning feeling stuffed and tired. Clark and his father just keep eating like they have a couple of bottomless pits in their stomachs. At one point I meet Mrs. Kent's eyes and we share an amused glance. She's finished eating as well. Here I thought she had made too much food, now I just wonder if she made enough. 

Eventually the Kent men are finished eating and we all take our plates over to the sink. I'm determined to make a graceful exit now instead of sticking around and allowing myself to be mortified by my behavior. I turn to thank Clark's parents for having me and excuse myself, but am stopped short by Clark letting out a happy whoop and dashing towards the living room. 

"Presents," he calls behind himself with glee. 

Umm, okay then. I look at Clark's mom and she's just got this indulgent smile on her face. She shrugs when she sees me looking at her and then heads out towards the living room as well. "Come on Lex," she says. "Don't want to keep the kid waiting." 

I smile slightly and follow her. Watching Clark and his family open presents wasn't exactly the way I had planned to spend this day and it doesn't sound like a whole lot of fun now that I am stuck in it either. Mr. Kent is following behind me and I can almost feel his eyes boring into my back. He wishes I wasn't here as well. 

When I enter the living room, Clark is sitting under the tree, literally bouncing with excitement. There's only four presents there, three small ones and a larger one next to them. It's less that I thought would be there. Certainly less than there ever was under ours when my mother was alive and it had always been just the three of us as well. We all sit down and Clark starts handing out the presents. 

He passes two of the smaller boxes to his parents and tells them that they are from him to both of them and then lifts the large box from under the tree and brings it over to set in front of me. "This is for you," he says and I can detect a hint of nervousness in his voice. Ah, Clark, you shouldn't have. I'm not allowed to give you anything, you shouldn't be allowed to give me anything either. 

"I can't," I tell him earnestly. "I didn't get you anything." 

"I didn't buy it," he assures me, "and besides, you have to. That's the rule." 

"The rule?" 

"Yeah," Clark grins, "the Christmas rule. You have to accept anything that's given to you." 

"Oh really?" I ask. Already I'm thinking of things I could give Clark and he wouldn't be allowed to turn down starting with that truck that's still sitting at the back of my garage. 

"Yeah, but the rule only applies for today," Clark tells me. 

"I see," I say. I still have time to run home and get the truck. Except for the fact that I'm pretty sure I didn't drive myself here so I would either need to slip out and trudge my way back to the house on foot or ask Clark to drive me back. There's no way I'm walking that far in the snow and I don't think Clark would drive me home just so that I could give him the truck his parents don't want him to have. "Why didn't someone tell me about this earlier?" 

Clark just smiles slyly and then turns back to his parents. They're both watching us and his mother is giving us a strange look. She thinks there's something odd between us I just know it. She might not suspect the actual nature of the oddness but she knows it's there. "You guys open yours first," he tells them. 

"Sure, sweetie," Mrs. Kent says and they comply with his request. Clark's mother opens the first present. It's a really nice silver picture frame and inside is a picture of Clark and two young people about the same age that I don't know. It's obviously a studio shot and quite well done. 

"When did you see Cindy and Mark?" Mr. Kent asks his son as he takes the picture from his wife. 

"They came to see me when you and mom were out of town for your anniversary earlier this month," Clark tells them. His father nods. Clark turns back to look at me. "They're my cousins," he says. I nod in response. "They gave a copy to their parents as well," he tells his father. 

"It's really nice, Clark," his mother tells him as she takes the picture back from her husband and then gets up to go place it on the mantle. She puts it next to a picture of the three of them at a lake in the summer. Clark looks about the same age, but his hair is shorter, much shorter, so I assume it's from this summer past. I really don't like his hair like that. It's much nicer the length it is now. Easier for me to run my fingers through it. Easier to hold on to. 

I smile at my thoughts and then turn back to watch Clark's parents open their second gift. This is an even smaller box than the first one. Clark's father has it. He takes the paper off and then lifts the top off the box. He pulls out two small pieces of paper. They look like tickets to some event, and it turns out they are. They're tickets to a local dinner theater show scheduled for early January. Clark's parents seem thrilled. 

"So, now it's your turn," Clark tells me as he turns back to face me. 

Of course everyone's looking at me now. Usually I love being the center of attention but right now I feel very put on the spot and uncomfortable. It's not normal, how much I want these people to like me. "Okay," I say tentatively and reach towards the brightly wrapped box. 

I pull off the big red bow Clark's put on top. I briefly debate pasting it on his goofily grinning face but decide that it might come off looking a little too intimate, especially between two male friends, so I drop it on the table in front of me. The paper is red with green and white trees on it. Simple but nice. I wonder how long Clark tried to decide on an appropriate paper. Or maybe he doesn't obsess about things like that the way I do. I start pulling the paper off slowly and carefully but stop when I hear Clark's sigh from next to me. 

"Geez, Lex. Have you never done this before?" he asks and then reaches out to help me by tearing the paper loudly down one of the sides. 

I look at him quizzically for a second and then grin broadly. Well I have done this before, but not recently. I didn't realize there was a standard protocol for this at Clark's house, but now that I do, well no one has ever accused me of being a slow learner. I rip off the remaining paper in one long tear. Underneath the paper is just a plain brown box. No clues as to what's inside. I shake the box gently and hear things moving inside it. "Shit," I say. I hope I didn't break whatever it is. 

"It's okay," Clark tells me. "It's not breakable and it was in pieces when I put it in the box." 

Okay, so that makes me curious. What on earth could he have given me that comes in pieces? A giant puzzle? God, I hope not. The box is taped at the top and I reach for the scissors that have been placed on the table for exactly that purpose. I slit the tape and open the box. Inside I see a jumble of black plastic and metal pieces that appear to fit together. I pull one out to examine it. Maybe if I look at it close enough, it will give up its secrets to me. No such luck though and I end up turning to Clark in confusion. 

"I don't understand," I tell him. 

Clark nods as though he had expected that and then leans over to reach into the box. He digs around from a moment and then comes up with what he is looking for. It's another small plastic item and he passes it over to me. This one is a small car. It vaguely resembles a Ferrari. I turn it over in my hand. It's a fairly normal toy car except that it has this plastic pole and two soft metal prongs on the bottom. 

"It's an electric car set," Clark tells me. "Specifically my old electric car set." 

Okay. So, I'm still confused. Why would he give me such a thing? Not that I'm not touched. He's given me his old toy, a very tangible part of his past, but I still don't get it. "Still not getting it," I tell him and continue to turn the small plastic car over in my hand. 

"Well, I know you like cars," Clark says. 

Umm, well yeah, that's a no-brainer, Clark. Have you seen my garage? I know you have. "Yes," I agree. 

"And well, you know when I was over at your house and you showed me the Trojan War set?" 

"Yes," I tell him and nod for him to continue. 

"I kind of got the idea that you hadn't had many real toys as a kid. So I thought we could take this over to your house, set it up and see who's the better driver," he tells me with a grin. He looks confident but I can still hear that underlying note of nervousness in his voice. He's scared that I won't like it, that I'll reject his gift, maybe even that I'll reject him. He should know better than that. 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah." 

"Sounds like fun," I say with a smile. It does sound like fun. Might even get it set up here before I go home. Just to see how it works, of course. 

"Cool," Clark says with a grin. 

Yes, very cool. We turn back to look at Clark's parents. His mother is looking at him with an expression of pride on her face. Proud that Clark's taken the Luther boy under his wing, befriended me, tried to give me back part of the childhood she's pretty sure I never had? Probably. She seems like that type to take in strays. Apparently she's passed it on to her son as well. Clark's father just looks surprised and when my eyes catch his, it isn't dislike I see there but rather a strange kind of sadness. I can only wonder what that means. 

His eyes move from me and return to Clark. "Hey, kid," he says to Clark. "That last one under the tree is from your mother and I." 

Clark grins and goes to retrieve the smallest box from under the tree. He returns to sit beside me before opening it. Clark turns the small box over in his hands and then shakes it. It rattles loudly and he looks over at his parents. Questions are clear on his face. He has no idea what they could have gotten him that fits in so small a box. I'm curious myself. 

Eventually Clark just tears the paper off and opens the small box. Inside is a single item. Clark pulls it out and looks at it in disbelief for a moment. It's a key. 

"You didn't?" Clark whispers and looks directly at his father. 

"We did," his father nods. "Mr. Johnson got a new truck last month and was looking to sell the old one. He gave us a good deal. I was planning on waiting until your birthday, but the opportunity came now." 

"This is so cool," Clark says and continues to stare at his parents with a look of disbelief. 

"It's in the barn," his father tells him. 

Clark chuckles at that. "So, that's why you made me sleep on the couch last night." Mr. Kent nods. 

"Can I?" Clark asks excitedly and looks towards the kitchen door. 

"Yes," Mrs. Kent tells him with a laugh of her own. 

He's so happy. I wonder if this is another of the reasons he wouldn't let Clark keep the truck I gave him. Maybe this was one of the things that father's did for their sons when they turned sixteen. Maybe I had stepped on his toes and made things worse while I was trying to make them better. That would be typical. The rules in the Kent world are so different from the rules in the world I grew up in that sometimes I wonder if we live in different universes. 

Clark's off like a shot, heading towards the kitchen. He pulls on his shoes quickly and then is out the door. His parents rise to follow him and Mrs. Kent turns back to look at me, motioning for me to follow them. Apparently we're all off to look at Clark's new truck. I nod and follow them to the door. I surprised to find that my shoes are sitting neatly next to the several other pairs lined up next to the door. 

Clark's mother goes to a nearby closet, retrieves both her jacket and mine and brings it back to me. I thank her, pull it on and then step into my shoes. We cross the yard together and join Clark and his father who are both out there already. They've come out without jackets on and I shiver in sympathy for them. Clark's told me that real farmers feel no cold but I don't know if I believe him. I think that maybe they're just crazy. 

It's an old red truck. Mid eighties, I'd guess. As old as Clark and almost as old as me. A little beaten up, but not too bad over all for its age. Clark's already sitting inside and looking like he's gotten everything he ever wanted. I'm glad to see him so happy, but a little jealous that it isn't me that made him feel this way. I'm not allowed to give him anything. That still seems damned unfair. 

"Can I take it for a drive?" Clark asks. He's bouncing in his seat. 

"Sure," his father tells him. 

"Why don't you take Lex with you?" his mother suggests. 

"Okay," Clark says and turns to look at me. "Wanna come for a ride?" 

"Sure," I say. I know Clark's having fun right now. I also know that as soon as he gets me alone, he's going to remember about what happened last night and want to talk about it. I'm not looking forward to that at all, but I might as well get it over with. I walk over to the passenger side of the truck and climb in. 

"Ready?" he asks me after I've pulled my seatbelt on. 

"Ready." I tell him. 

Clark nods, then turns on the truck. He waves to his parents and pulls out of the barn onto the road leading away from their farm. 

We drive for several minutes in silence, Clark still literally bouncing with excitement beside me. I stare at my younger lover. Clark's beautiful in his happiness and I find it hard not to look at him, smile back at him. It's a contagious feeling. Clark turns and catches me watching him. "What?" he asks. 

I shake my head. There's no really good reason why I'm staring at him except that I want to. I turn from him and stare out the window for a few moments. It's beautiful this morning, all crisp and clean and white. It must have snowed last night because everything looks smooth and new. Even the snow on the road in front of us is undisturbed. It's like the world itself has been reborn. I can feel a new set of possibilities tugging at the edges of my brain trying to make themselves known. 

"I miss them," I say softly. I'm speaking more to myself then to Clark but I know he heard me. I'm not sure where that came from or what part of my subconscious suddenly decided it was a good idea to bring this up now even before Clark's asked me about it but it's come out and now I will need to deal with it. 

"Who?" Clark asks just as softly from beside me. 

"My parents. The way we were before my mother died." Clark doesn't say anything in response but I feel his warm hand reach out to cover mine. I'm still looking out the window but I can see a vague outline of his form reflected back at me in the glass. I'm glad for his support, for his caring, and even for his love. "It's not like we were ever the perfect family. My father was always driven, but when my mother was alive, he was never as distant as he is now. When I was young, he was away a lot and when he was around he was always trying to teach me how to be a 'proper' Luthor but he never acted like it was distasteful to be around me like he does now." 

"How did she...?" Clark starts to ask and then cuts himself off like he's just realized that maybe it's not the most appropriate question to be asking. 

"Die?" I ask and turn to look at him. He nods ever so slightly. "A car accident. I was thirteen. It was November, just before Thanksgiving. She was coming home from a charity event and was struck by a drunk driver. Her car went off the road, rolled down the bank and ran into a tree. She was dead on the scene. The driver never even stopped. Took them the better part of a year to figure out who it was." 

"I'm sorry," Clark tells me. His hand tightens around mine. 

"It wasn't your fault." 

"I know, but I'm still sorry," he tells me earnestly. I nod. He waits a few minutes before asking his next questions. "Is that what it was about? What you did last night?" 

I laugh ironically. "I don't remember much of what I did last night, I have to admit that, but I can imagine I was pretty obnoxious." 

"Well you weren't Prince Charming, but it was nothing I couldn't handle," Clark says wryly. I hear his words and I also hear what's underneath them, a leery type of concern. Had I done or said something that concerned him, that had hurt him? 

"What did I do?" 

"Nothing, Lex, you were just drunk. It's not a big deal," he replies but I know that's not it. It's not just that I was drunk and babbling on about God knows what. It's something more. God, I wish I didn't have this nasty habit of blacking out when I drink. I mean, it's one of the main reasons I do drink, but sometimes it can really come back to haunt me. This is going to be one of those times, I can tell. 

"Tell me," I insist. "I know sometimes people say they can't remember what they did because they don't want to deal with the consequences of their actions, but I really can't remember. Everything after your call is a big black blank to me." 

Clark removes his hand from mine and puts it back on the steering wheel. He's staring straight ahead at the road. "You said you wanted...," Clark starts and then trails off softly. He's blushing brightly next to me. 

Ah shit, what did I tell him I wanted to do? I can only imagine. I've done so many things when I'm drunk that I would never do otherwise. I've been told of them afterwards by people who do remember and been stunned by my own actions. I don't know why I do it. Maybe it's the feeling of being out of control, of being able to do whatever I want and knowing somehow that I won't remember it in the morning. 

"You said you wanted to fuck me," Clark says so quickly I am barely able to make out words in the string of sound. 

Okay. I've definitely thought about that and I definitely want it, but we haven't talked about it yet. Mostly because I knew he wasn't ready, as evidenced by his inability to even say it. But also because I wanted it to be special when we did do it, not rushed so that he can get home on time or some such thing. I also know instinctively that this is not the only thing that's bugging him. "What else happened?" I ask. 

Clark continues to look at the road. The silence between us stretches out for a few moments and I start to worry that something may be seriously wrong. 

"You've been with a lot of people before." Clark says it as a statement rather than a question. 

"Yes," I confirm for him. There's no use denying it. Even if I did, he could easily track the majority of my indiscretions through the society page of any major paper in the country. "Did I tell you that last night?" 

"Sort of." 

Well, that's interesting. I wonder why I would have told him something like that. I've never been the type of person to speak about past lovers with current ones. Most of the people I'm with just know my reputation and welcome the vast body of experience I bring to their bed. Clark's not like any of those people, I've always known that, I've always welcomed that. He's never given me any hints that he might know the type of life I led before coming here. His father probably does, which is likely one of the big reasons that he's not so hot on me being around his son but I can't imagine it's the type of thing he would ever mention to Clark. "Do you know why?" I ask him. 

"When I showed up you were drunk and watching porn," Clark tells me. I groan but he pushes on. "When I asked you why you told me it was tradition and that usually it involved drugs and more people." 

I did? Ah jeez. I hadn't wanted him to know that. Not that I am specifically trying to hide my past from him, as I've already mentioned that would be next to impossible, but he is so innocent, so clean and fresh and new that it makes me wish I were a little less dirty, a little less tainted by the life I've chosen to lead. I had wanted to wait until he was a little older and we were a little more secure in what we are to each other before he had to encounter that part of my past. 

"I'm sorry about that," I tell him. 

"But it's true?" 

"Yeah." I nod at him and then turn to look out the window again. Outside it's still cool and fresh and new and I wish I were out there right now. I wish I were anywhere but here. God, this is a hard conversation to have. I know I have to though. "Do you want to talk about it?" 

"I think so," Clark tells me after a moment. 

I nod slowly and turn back to face him. "Maybe we should find somewhere to stop while we do this," I suggest. I trust Clark to keep us safe no matter what, but if we're going to play true confessions then neither of us should be distracted, least of all by something as unnecessary as driving around the middle of nowhere. 

"Okay," he agrees. Clark pulls off the road at the next pull out. He puts the truck in park but leaves the engine on so that the heater will run while we talk. 

"Do you have a specific question or do you just want me to start talking and you can tell me when you've heard enough?" 

"I don't think I want to know the details," Clark tells me. I can understand that. I don't think that I would want to know the details if I were him either. "I just... I just want to know why you want to hurt yourself, Lex," he tells me quietly. 

"I don't," I say quickly, instinctively. I don't want to hurt myself, that's not what this is about. Not at all. This is about wanting to forget, wanting to be someone else, if only for a little while. 

"You must," Clark insists. "Why else would you do something like what you did last night? I invited you over. You could have been with me instead of drinking yourself unconscious and watching that crap." 

"I couldn't, Clark. It's too much." 

"Too much?" 

"To see what you have and know that no matter how hard I try I will never have it myself." 

"And what's that?" 

"Love, respect, acceptance," I tell him. "A family that loves you and cares for you and wants you to be with them. 

"I want you to be a part of that too," Clark tells me sincerely. 

"You know that's never going to happen, right?" I ask him seriously. No matter what we do, Clark's father is likely never going to like me, especially after he eventually finds out about our relationship. If we continue this, the best we're probably ever going to get is tolerance and the privilege of being ignored. 

"It could." 

The look I give Clark clearly communicates my skepticism in that ever happening. 

"My parents are good people." 

"They are. But I still doubt it. There's only so much you can reasonably expect good people to understand and accept." 

Clark's silent for a few minutes then. I can tell that he's thinking about what I've said so far. He's probably considering what being with me will mean to his relationship with his parents in the future. Is he scared of losing them? I have no reassurances to give him. 

"So, instead of spending the evening seeing what you can't have, you decided to get drunk?" Clark asks me slowly. He sounds like he can't quite make out the logic in my thinking there. 

"When I'm drunk I can forget," I tell him simply. 

"What?" 

"Everything, for a while anyhow. I must find that liberating in a way. To know I can do things and then not have to deal with the memories of having done them." 

"And that's where the sex comes in?" Clark asks quietly. 

"Usually," I confirm with a nod. I hate admitting how shallow I've been with sex in the past, especially considering how much it has come to mean to me to share it with Clark. 

"Do you hate yourself that much?" 

I'm stunned by the question. "I don't," I tell him sharply. I don't hate myself. I may hate my father and what he wants to make me. I may hate God for taking my mother away. But I don't hate myself. I'm Lex Luthor. I have power and money. I can do anything I want. People want to be me. I can't hate myself. It's unthinkable. 

"You must," Clark insists, stronger in his assertion this time, "to do this to yourself year after year." 

"I do it to forget," I tell him again. This is frustrating. Why won't he listen to me? Doesn't he think I have some idea as to why I do what I do? 

"Yes, to forget who you are, to forget what you don't have and to forget what you do have." I realize that he has a better understanding of me than I thought. "You could have just told me this, you know? I would have come over and spent time with you. We could have done something, watched some movies, had some fun, whatever. You didn't have to choose between hating your life and being alone." 

"You would have come over?" I repeat it as a question. I hadn't even considered that possibility. I had just assumed that he would want to be at his parent's house and participating in their own Christmas traditions. 

"Sure." 

"What about your parents?" 

"You're a friend, they would have understood," he tells me with a shrug. "Don't you understand yet that I care about you?" 

I thought I did, but I guess I don't. I've never quite experienced his type of caring before. My mother cared for me because I was her child. I have no doubt she loved me, but it was kind of inevitable. My father cares about me only because who I am and what I do reflect back onto him and because he doesn't want to go through the trouble of raising another Luthor heir at this point in his life. What friends and lovers I've had over the years have cared about me only because of what I could give them or whom they thought they could turn me into. Clark sees me, the real me all the good and the bad, and cares about me regardless. He isn't trying to change me but I want him to do it regardless. That scares me. 

"I want you to be happy." 

I nod. I don't know what to say and I wouldn't trust my voice to be steady even if I did have an idea of what to say. 

"Just don't run from me like this again, okay?" 

"Okay." How did he become so smart in only fifteen years? 

"Good," Clark says happily. He leans over and kisses me. It's surprisingly non-sexual. All that's there is reassurance and caring. I like it. "Ready to go home then?" 

Home? Maybe someday. "Yeah," I tell him. 

Clark smiles broadly and then turns back to look at the road. He places the truck in drive once more, checks to make sure there's no traffic around and then turns around and heads back towards his parent's house. "Good," Clark says again and checks his watch, "because it's almost time to go meet my cousins at the lake." 

"Lake?" I ask him. I feel like I'm suddenly not following the conversation very well. 

"Yeah with Cindy and Mark. We always go tobogganing on Christmas Day and then head over to my aunt and uncle's for dinner. It's a tradition." 

"Oh," I say. I know I wanted to go home earlier, but now that he's ditching me I realize the last thing I want is to go home where I'll be alone. 

"Yeah, you'll come, right?" Clark asks casually. 

"Uh, I don't know. It's your family, Clark," I tell him. I want to be with him but I don't want to have to worry about playing nice with people I don't know. 

"So?" 

"I think you know, Clark." 

Clark turns to look at me seriously for a moment. "You're a friend who's alone on Christmas my family will understand that." 

"So they all take in strays, do they?" I mutter softly to myself. 

"What?" 

I shake my head to indicate that what I said isn't important. For a minute I don't think that Clark will let it go but eventually he surprises me and does. 

"Please?" he asks softly and I feel myself melting. I know I'm going to give in and wish I had more willpower where he's concerned. 

"Okay," I tell him with a small sigh. I know I've made the right decision when I see the smile he gives me in response. In the end there's nowhere I would rather be right now than anywhere that he is. Maybe we can make some new traditions together. 

-end- 


End file.
